Cold
by Lunadeath
Summary: Harry gets cold easily- but others find a way to warm him up. This is DxH, but there's a bit of HxR, HxDT, and other fluff. What are best friend's for? This is Slash
1. Cold

**Title: Cold**

**Pairings:  Harry+Ron (fluff), Draco+Harry (cuteness)**

**Warnings:  Slash, cuddly Harry and endearing Draco, I think.**

**Disclaimer:  I do NOT own these characters. They all belong to the wonderful author and British gal J.K. Rowling.**

~~~~~~~~~~

          He woke up for the second time that night, shivering.  Harry wasn't sure why his bed was so cold; it should have warmed up by now.  When he first crawled under the covers, he had expected them to be a bit cool.  His body heat should have warmed them up considerably, but for some odd reason, Harry kept waking up, and his bed remained freezing.

          It was as if someone had put a curse on his blankets so that they'd never get warm.  This annoyed Harry to no end.  He loved cuddling under warm covers, and that was one of the reasons why it was so hard for him to get up some mornings.  The bed would be so comfy and he'd be so warm that he didn't wish to get up.  The thought of not having breakfast always got him up, though, unless it was a Saturday or Sunday morning, then he'd lay in as long as he wanted.

          He couldn't stand it any longer, and he got up.  It was as if some unknown force was controlling him.  He put his glasses on, his eyes were still half-closed, and he slowly walked over to where his best friend was sleeping.

          Behind the crimson curtains was one Ron Weasley, his most trusted and close friend.  He can just barely make out Ron's bright red hair from the moonlight that was pouring through the nearby window.  Ron was facing away from him, head almost buried completely from the orange and red covers and the giant pillow.  He sure looked comfortable, Harry's mind thought.

          He could have been dreaming, but he wasn't sure.  It was as if he were sleep walking, which was probably what he was doing, but right now, Harry's conscious didn't wonder much on it.  Harry carefully lifted the corner of the blankets away and stuck his leg in.  Ron must have really been out of it, because he didn't stir.  Harry slowly slipped all the way in, took off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand, and then he laid his head down on the spare pillow next to Ron.  It was a good thing that Ron didn't hog the bed; otherwise, Harry wouldn't have any room at all.

          The moment that his head hit the pillow, Harry was deeply asleep.  The whole trip to Ron's bed seemed like nothing more than a strange, distant dream.  The bed was incredibly warm.

          Unfortunately, Ron had woken suddenly, sensing something amiss.  He turned on his back, half-asleep, and moved a hand behind him.  He gasped silently when his hand found another body in the bed.  His eyes snapped open the rest of the way, and he stared at his intruder.  He saw a head of messy black hair, and those unmistakable square shoulders slowly heaving as he breathed.

          "Harry?" Ron whispered.  There was no answer.  He lightly placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook him softly, "Harry?"

          Harry mumbled something under his breath.

          "Harry, what are you doing in my bed?"

          There was a groan, and then Harry mumbled, "What do you mean?  I'm in MY bed."

          "No you're not, Harry." Ron said, "You're in MY bed."

          Harry did wake up then, and he turned over onto his back. "Wha-?  Ron?"

          Ron nodded.

          "How'd I get here?"

          "I don't know.  I was hoping you'd tell me."

          Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then moved a hand to the nightstand.  Just as Harry hoped, his glasses were there.  He slid them on, and then looked up at Ron, who was practically towering over him, even though he was only leaning on his elbow.  Ron sure grew these past few years.

          "I don't remember." Harry said.  He was glad that it was rather dark, because he was sure that his cheeks were red.  "All I remember is waking up in the middle of the night a few times because my bed was still cold.  I don't know why it is.  I mean- it should be warm by then, right?"

          "That is weird." Ron said. "Have you thought about using a warmth charm?"

          Harry shook his head. "No, not really.  I couldn't think properly when I was shivering.  I just tried to go back to sleep.  And then, the next thing I knew, you were waking me up."

          "You were probably sleep-walking."

          That was the same thought that crossed Harry's mind as well.  "You're probably right.  Well, I'll take care of my bed in the morning." Harry took his glasses off and set them back on the nightstand, "Good night, Ron." He put his head back onto the pillow.

          "Er… Harry?"

          "Yes?"

          "Shouldn't you… be back in your bed?"

          "I can't sleep in a cold bed." Harry sighed, "Uh… is it all right if I stay here tonight?  I'll figure something out about my bed in the morning.  I'm too tired to deal with it right now."

          "Uh… I guess so.  But what if the others wake up and see us like this?  What do we tell them?"

          Harry turned over so that he was facing Ron and he smiled a little. "We'll tell them that it's none of their business."

          "But won't they get suspicious if we said that?" Ron asked.

          Harry shrugged his one shoulder.  "I don't care what they think."

          Ron's eyes widened comically.  Harry held in a snicker.

          "Look, Ron, I know that you're not gay, all right?  You don't have to worry about me jumping your bones in the middle of the night because I won't.  Okay?"

          "Er… H-Harry?"

          "Yes?"

          "Is there… something you're not telling me?"

          Harry blushed.  "Maybe."

          "Are you… you know… hom… uh… g-gay?"  Ron sounded almost embarrassed for even saying the word.

          "Actually, I'm not sure." Harry answered truthfully.  "All I know is, I wouldn't be disgusted if I kissed a guy, so… I don't know.  I might just be very open-minded."

          "Oh." Ron finally said.

          There was silence between them for a bit.  Harry didn't know if it was considered awkward silence, or just silent reflection.

          "Don't worry, Ron.  I just want to sleep.  So, then… is it ok?  Can I sleep here tonight?"

          Ron pursed his lips tightly together, along with his brow, in thought.

          "All right."  Ron said, finally.

          "Thank you, Ron." Harry smiled.  He turned back around and closed his eyes.  The bed was very warm, and very comfortable all night.

~^^~

          Harry got a rude awakening.

          "Harry.  Harry, wake up!"  Ron was jiggling his arm.

          "All right, I'm up!" Harry groaned.  He blinked a few times as his vision became more clear.  He was staring right into Ron's chest.  Harry was relieved that they had their pajamas on.

          Harry blushed brightly when he finally realized that he had been snuggled up close to Ron's body, his arm slung over Ron, and his face practically pressed hard against Ron's collarbone.  He looked up at Ron, and Ron motioned his head up.  Harry turned and looked up.  The rest of the boys that shared their dormitory were standing there, their mouths agape.

          His blush got worse as he sat up from his position, and away from Ron.  He smiled shyly at his friends and then gave them a meek little: "good morning."

          "Morning, Harry." Seamus grinned.

          "So what did you two do last night?" Dean said, sharing the same wicked grin as Seamus.

          "Nothing!" Ron said.

          "It's none of your business." Harry said automatically.

          The others gasped.

          "Harry!" Ron moaned, "Don't say that!  They'll think that something actually DID happen, then!"

          "Does this mean that something did happen?" Said Seamus.

          "No!" Ron bellowed.

          Harry laughed. "Nothing happened, guys.  Honest."

          "Nothing?" Said Dean, "Not even a little peck on the cheek?"

          Harry and Ron shook theirs heads, Ron was shaking his head harder than Harry.

          "Nope.  I didn't even know I was cuddling up to him.  I was asleep."

          "Sure," Seamus winked, "I believe you, Harry."

          "Seamus!" Ron growled.

          "Well…" Dean grinned, clearly amused, "I suppose we better go down for breakfast and leave these two lovebirds alone."

          "Good thinking, my friend." Seamus smiled.

          "Hey!" Ron pouted.

          Harry patted him, "They're just teasing.  Let's get some breakfast as well."

          "Right." Ron sighed.  He got up and started to get dressed.

          "We'll make sure to save some seats so that you two sit by one another," Seamus said, puckering his lips.

          "Shut up, Finnigan!" Ron huffed.

          Seamus and Dean roared with laughter.  Neville had already left a while ago, clearly not comfortable with seeing two of his good friends sleeping next to each other.

          "Don't get too overexcited about it, Ron.  Seamus is just poking fun at you."  Ron grumbled something that Harry didn't catch.  "You're not *that* homophobic, are you?"

          "Huh?  Er… no.  I just don't like being teased about it since I'm not."

          "I understand." Harry said as he slipped his trousers on. "I'll talk to Seamus and Dean and tell them to knock it off for you."

          "Thanks, Harry."

~***~

          It was raining, but Harry didn't care.  He barely recalled the spell that Hermione used on his glasses that one year when it rained.  He could just make out the goal posts on the opposite side of the Quidditch field.  The wind was starting to pick up, and he was getting soaked to the bone.  It was beginning to get cold, so Harry landed gracefully back on the ground and made his way to the locker room.

          Harry flipped his wet bangs back from his face and just as he walked into the door that lead to the locker room, he saw someone standing there, leaning up against the inside of the archway, arms crossed over some kind of cloth.  He recognized that blond hair and amused smirk anywhere.

          "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry sneered.

          Malfoy scoffed and unfolded his arms.  He opened the cloth he had folded up in his arms and it rolled out down to the floor.  Harry was confused, and before he could say anything, Draco draped the big towel over his head.

          "What do you think you're doing, flying out in that weather?  Either you're really that brave, or you're very stupid.  You could get struck by lightning, or something!  You could catch pneumonia!"  Harry yanked the soft towel from his head, mussing his hair more, and he wrapped it around his shoulders.  He shivered.

          "Well?" Draco said.  He crossed his arms and tapped an impatient toe, "You know, your glasses make a good lightning rod.  If you had gotten struck, you'd have yourself another scar on your head.  Is that what you want, Potter?  Isn't one of these lightning shaped scars enough?"

          "W-why do you a-actually care?" Harry said through chattering teeth.

          "Oh, I don't know, Potter.  Maybe because it's not your time to die yet?"

          "Whatever." Harry was about to take the towel off of him, but Malfoy grabbed it and started to fluff up his hair. "Malfoy!"

          "Is this the kind of thanks I get for actually caring?  I was standing there by the doorway- in the drafty, drafty doorway- watching you fly, waiting for you with a nice warm, cozy towel and all you can say is 'whatever'?"  Draco wiped at some of the drops that have slid down Harry's face.

          Harry felt his cheeks warm up unexpectedly.

          "*I* could have caught pneumonia!" Draco said suddenly.  Harry blew a piece of hair out of his eyes. "What? No 'thank you'?  No 'Thanks for caring, Malfoy'? Nothing?"

          Harry looked away and smiling a little.  "Er… yeah, thanks, Malfoy."

          Draco beamed.

          "You're welcome, Potter."  Before he could stop himself, Draco moved forward and placed a warm kiss on Harry's cheek.

          Harry floundered.

          "Next time you go flying, invite me." Draco smirked and then walked away.

~~That's it, for now~~


	2. Cold 2: Warmth

Cold 2 ~ Warmth

**Disclaimer:**  I do NOT own these characters. They all belong to the wonderful author and British gal J.K. Rowling.

_Pairings:_ Harry/Draco, Harry/Dean (not a serious pair, just like the Harry/Ron)

**Important warnings and other stuff (please read!):** Slash (male/male stuff going on), sap, slightly fluffy, and _intimate friendship_ (I've always wanted to do a little something with a rare pairing).  To those who are really into HP/DM (like moi) please don't hurt me.  Harry's just a sweet guy that likes being intimate at times with his friends (he's got his heart on his sleeve, remember?), plus I think it would be hard to stay away from a cute and cuddly Harry, don't you?

**Important Notes:** keeping in respect to the way the first part was written, there will definitely be HP/DM slash, and some other small pairing besides it. (Not that Harry is going out with either Ron or Dean or anything. I just like writing cute stuff.)

This fic is obviously just a _bunch of little ficlets put into one_ with no redeeming plot.  Even though they can be put together, it's not necessary to have to read the first part to understand the second part.

Written: October 10, 2003.  It's the last warm day of autumn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          The air was getting colder as the days go by.  Autumn was finally here, and the trees were looking more and more gorgeous every day.  The dark red leaves on a red oak, the golden ones on the white oak, and others that Harry couldn't recall the names of at the moment.  He wasn't an expert with trees, but he sure did appreciate the way they looked in the fall.  He did remember, however, that the red oak didn't lose their leaves until spring.

          Although the weather had been rather nice for the last couple weeks, it did begin to get a bit chilly.  Harry huddled his gloved hands underneath his armpits to get extra warmth and buried his mouth into his Gryffindor scarf.  Sometimes he loved the crispness of the morning air as winter approached, but then sometimes he hated it, wishing he were back in bed under warm covers, and even a few arms and legs wrapped around his body.

          He admitted it.  He liked cuddling up to the heat of another boys' body.  He could easily say he was gay, or bisexual, but those were just names, titles.  Harry liked to think that he was just a loving person, and he'd give love to almost anyone.  Looks didn't matter too much to him.  Unless you looked like a troll, then he'd have to say: "Sorry.  I'm not kissing _that_ mug!"  Of course, he'd never really say that out loud to the person.  He was too kind to do that.

          Attitude was almost everything.  He had thought that he'd never kiss or cuddle with anyone that had a foul mouth and a nasty disposition.  He was proven wrong one day when Draco Malfoy had acted somewhat decent toward him, and then kissed him.  He had thought about that kiss for days, and he figured that if he would ever meet up with Malfoy again, he'd probably kiss him.  Kind of like saying: "I'm just returning the favor, is all."  And then after a while, he'd go back to calling him an annoying git.  Which was true, because that was what Malfoy was.  A git.

          'A git that's a good kisser and easy on the eyes…' Harry thought sheepishly.

          He wasn't sure where he was going, but he had found himself walking toward the Forbidden Forest.  Hagrid must have a fire going, because there was smoke floating lazily out of the chimney at the top of the hut.  Harry wondered briefly if he should visit Hagrid, or continue walking.  He peered around the hut at the way the forest looked… leaves of different colors on the ground and in the trees, blowing in the wind, making small whirlwinds, flying into his messy hair and on his shoulders.  It was a beautiful sight to him.

          He trudged onward to the Forbidden Forest, arms still snuggly wrapped around his body for warmth, winter cloak bellowing out behind him as the wind whipped harshly at him.  Harry was only a little ways into the forest when he heard his name called from behind him.

          Harry whipped around, his cloak flying out before him, wind whipping his black hair all over the place, as he surveyed the person.

          "Oh." Harry said, feeling stupid for not first recognizing the voice, "Hello, Dean."

          "Hiya, Harry." Dean said.  The tall black boy smiled at Harry; he wasn't wearing his scarf, or even gloves, and he looked at ease with the way the air's temperature seemed to be dropping almost every second to Harry.  It also didn't seem like Dean was wearing his winter cloak.

          "So… er… what're you doing out here?" Harry asked.  He wanted to ask Dean if he were warm or not, but he figured that it was a stupid question.  Dean wasn't even shivering.

          "Just out for a stroll." Dean said easily.  He caught a leaf as it tried to land in his dark curls.  Harry just stood there, shivering slightly as the wind picked up, staring at Dean.  "How are you?" Dean finally said.

          "Oh, er… I'm fine.  It's beautiful out here." Harry said, and then he looked up at the trees.

          "Yeah, it is." Dean said, following Harry's eyes.  "My favorite part of autumn is the colorful leaves."

          "Me too." Harry said, smiling softly. "But… I don't like the cold much."

          "No?" Dean said sounding amused.  Harry blushed slightly as the other Gryffindor ogled him.  "I love it, actually.  It feels nice against my skin."

          Harry's body shivered at that and he shook his head, "I don't think it feels nice.  It feels… well… _cold_.  I don't like it."

          Dean moved forward, watching Harry's deep green eyes as they stared down at their feet.  He stopped only a stride away from Harry, and Harry lifted his eyes.  Chocolate brown locked with emerald for a moment before Harry looked away.  Harry's cheeks were pink from the cold, but they were beginning to turn pinker.

          "Maybe I could help you warm up?" Dean said quietly.

          Harry shrugged lightly, and then kept half of his face huddled under his warm scarf.  He put his gloved hands into his pockets, wrapping his out of control cloak around his body.  The wind seemed to have died down for a bit before picking up again.  Harry shivered violently from the onslaught of cold air.

          "Care to take a little walk through the forest with me?" Dean asked.  He got closer to Harry, seeing Harry shiver almost uncontrollably.  He tentatively put an arm around Harry's small square frame, hoping that Harry won't jerk away angrily.

          Harry didn't jerk away, however.  He moved into that warm embrace, glad that Dean was tall enough to keep most of the breeze off of him.  A swirl of orange and yellow leaves passed by as they began to walk.  Harry finally got a hand out from his warm pocket and wrapped it around Dean's body, pressing himself closer.  Dean brought his other arm around so that Harry was now encircled.  Harry could feel Dean's body heat radiating through his clothes.  He pressed his face harder into the side of Dean's chest, warming up his nose and cheeks.  He could smell a faint scent of tangerines and cinnamon from within Dean's robes.

          'This is nice,' Harry thought with a little smile.  Of course, he had no idea that Dean was this way, but it didn't matter.  He was warming up inch by inch, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage, his hands shaking, but not from the cold.

          Leaves crunched and crackled with each footstep.  The wind whistled slightly as it twirled some leaves on the ground, creating a small tornado.  They watched it in fascination for a bit until it slowly died down.  A few strain brown leaves flew back up into the air before descending to the ground again, and then the wind picked up again, creating another small flurry.

          Harry felt Dean's cheek lightly touch his temple.  His skin was hot to Harry, and it made him moan softly at the contact.  He was trembling, he knew it, but he didn't want the moment to stop.  He felt warm, safe, and loved.  He wished it were never-ending.

          "We better go back," Dean whispered faintly.  He sounded as if he didn't want the moment to end either.  "Otherwise, they'd come looking for us."

          "I… I guess so." Harry mumbled.

          It took him by surprise when he felt Dean's finger underneath his chin.  That dark, balmy skin pushed up and Harry had no choice but to bring his head up.  Harry could feel the back of his skull brush against Dean's shoulder as his eyes moved up Dean's face.  He blushed slightly at the watery gaze, and then Dean lowered his face to Harry's.  A lump formed as he felt Dean's soft, and very warm, lips over his trembling ones.

          A small drop escaped the corner of Harry's lash.

          Harry took off his gloves and brought his hands inside of Dean's robe.  Dean hissed softly, detaching himself from Harry's lips.

          "Damn, Harry, your hands are cold!"

          Harry grinned teasingly, eyes shining.  "You're warm."

          All Dean could do was chuckle softly, and then he bent his head back down and took Harry's bottom lip lightly between his teeth.

          Harry moaned slightly, moving his hands up smooth, dark skin.  Dean's hands slowly caressed the back of Harry's head, and then down to his neck.  Their kiss became explosive as they touched unfamiliar territory, their heartbeats thudding in their chests at the mere thought of what they were doing:  Light, pinkish skin rubbing and meshing with dark, auburn skin, heat radiating off of each other.

          Finally, Dean ended the kiss, panting and sweating slightly.  "Come inside with me?" he breathed.

          Harry nodded, eyes glazed over, glasses slightly fogged up.  He felt Dean's hand rubbing his back, giving him shivers of desire.

          He was no longer cold.

~*^H&D^*~

          Cold-hearted snake was what some called the Slytherin.  Cold-blooded, even.  The prince of ice and cold shoulders.

          No one told him that he was also the king of cold feet.

          The fire in the Great Hall was burning brightly, warming Harry so much that he had to take off his shirt.  It was a Saturday, and it was a day to be lazy.  Some Gryffindors had come to sit by the roaring fire, cuddling together, as did Ron and Hermione, sitting off to the side of the circle.  Even some Slytherins had come over to sit and watch the crackling flames leap out from the fireplace.  It was a calm, uncanny weekend for Hogwarts as the war drew closer.  The weather was getting a bit nippier, and because of it, not many have ventured outside.  Some had claimed that they didn't go out because of the threat that sometimes hung in the chilling air.

          Unknowing to Harry, who was lying on his stomach, shirt off and chin resting on folded hands, Draco Malfoy had sat down beside him.  When Harry continued to pay it no heed, Malfoy had decided to take off his shoes and socks, and stick a bare foot onto Harry's bare back.

          "HOLY-!" Harry jerked to his side and instantly saw the culprit of the frigid foot.

          Glittering gray eyes were dancing with mirth at Harry.  The two old rivals, who'd already been intimate before, eyed at each other with slightly melted icy stares.

          "Did you _have_ to stick your stone-cold foot on my back?"

          "Yes I did, Potter." Draco said, lifting his chin challengingly. "So, what are you going to do about it?  Going to cry to Granger?  Or maybe even the weaselette…"

          Harry sat up, laying a languid arm over his bent knee.  His raven-black hair sticking up a bit from the back and the side from lying on the Great Hall's rug almost all afternoon.  He fixed his glasses, which had slowly started to slide off his face.

          "I'm not in the mood for your banter today, Malfoy.  I'm sure that no one is, really." Harry gestured a quick hand at the gathering crowd around the fireplace and where Harry and Draco were sitting, apparently wanting to see some kind of show.  It would add a bit more spice to their dull afternoon, though.

          "Looks to me like they want to see some kind of brawl." Malfoy retorted stonily.

          "Well, I don't care if they want to see a tap-dancing octopus in a tutu.  I'm not in the mood!"

          Draco stuck his tongue out.  The blond obviously didn't want to have a real kind of fistfight with Harry today, as he was probably just as lethargic as everyone else.  He moved his foot over and wiggled his glacial toes over Potter's tan skin.

          Harry jumped about three inches off the floor.

          "Damn it, Malfoy!  Keep your little icy devils away from me!"

          "They are little devils, aren't they?" Draco said in a bored tone, looking at his toes as he spread them out. "I try to control them, but sometimes they have a mind of their own."

          "Well, if you don't control them, then I'll just have to vanish them." Harry leered threateningly.  He knew his Vanishing Charm well.

          Draco scoffed, moving to sit closer to Harry.  To his surprise, Harry didn't move at all.  Harry watched Malfoy carefully, along with where he put his toes.

          "You know…" Draco finally said, "I'm just as tired of it as you are.  So what do you say of a kind of truce between us?  Even if it's just for today?"

          "Er… I suppose." Harry said.  His mind reeled back to the slight intimate moment that they had shared before, and when he saw the heated look in Draco's eyes, he knew just what Draco wanted.  "As long as you're on the up and up with things today…"

          "Oh, I am." Draco said, smirking.  "So we're cool now?"

          Harry nodded.

          "Good." Draco smiled a bit wickedly. "Then that means I can do something to you without worrying about you giving me a black eye."

          "Which is?"

          "This!" Draco said, sliding his foot across Harry's thigh and sticking the bottom part over Harry's stomach.

          "Draco!!" Harry screeched, grabbing onto Draco's ankle.  His hand felt incredibly warm against Draco's foot.

          Draco wiggled it in the palm of Harry's hand.  Harry looked down at Draco's foot and the wiggling toes, looked back up into Draco's face, and then smirked maliciously.

          Harry held up a hand and twiddled his fingers.

          "Don't you _dare_, Potter…" Draco narrowed his eyes in a threatening manner. "Don't you… AAAIIIIEEEEE!!"  He yanked his foot around to get it free from Harry's grip, but Harry proved to be stronger.  Harry's fingers held fast as he tickled mercilessly at Draco's sole.

          Draco was soon on his back, wiggling and laughing his head off as he tried to pull his foot free from Harry's clutches.

          They had the whole room's attention now.  A few Ravenclaws that had been walking by had stopped to observe the strange behavior between rivals, and the Gryffindors and handful of Slytherins watched on in confusion of what to do.  The two so-called leaders of the Houses weren't trading punches, or hexes at each other, but were doing something that went into the category of Things You'd Never, Ever See Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy Do Even Once In Their Lifetimes.

          "I—will—get—revenge… P-Potter!!" Draco shrieked, his body twisting and turning wildly.

          Harry was grinning like a madman, on the verge of laughing as well.  He'd never seen Malfoy like this before: flushed cheeks, water streaming down his face, and genuine laughter.

          Somehow, Malfoy ended up on his stomach.  Harry took the opportunity to his advantage.  He turned his body around so that he was sitting on Malfoy's lower back, facing his feet; and with a good grip still on his right ankle, preceded to tickle the poop out of him.  Harry had steered clear so far of Malfoy's other foot, which was twitching and kicking with effort.

          "Looks like the bully is getting his just desserts." Harry said, still grinning widely.  "If I knew you were ticklish sooner, then I wouldn't of had to curse you all those times."

          "YOU LITTLE—YOU SON OF A MUD—AAAIIIIIEEE!!"

          "That's not very nice, Malfoy." Harry said, yanking Draco's other leg to him to proceed tickling them both as he held on with one arm. "Remember our truce."

          "SCREW YOU!" Draco hissed.

          "You give up?" Harry grinned wickedly.

          "P-P-Potter!!"

          "Say uncle."

          "Never!" Draco spat, but just barely.  His whole face was turning bright red.

          "I won't stop until you say it." Harry said, sounding a little bored.

          The crowd around them had suddenly gotten bigger.

          "I WILL _NOT_ LET YOU WIN THIS!" Draco huffed.  Harry wondered where he got the strength to even speak, since he was tickling him non-stop.

          "Just say it, Malfoy." Harry said, winking at his friends from the sidelines.  They smiled.  "Surrender to me."

          "IN YOUR DREAMS!" Draco roared.  But, true to Harry's word, he hadn't let up.  "Ok!" Draco puffed, "OK!! I GIVE! I GIVE!  I CAN'T TAKE THIS!"

          "What was that, _Draco_?"

          "UNCLE!  UNCLE!!  YOU WIN, POTTER!!  I GIVE UP!"

          And just like that, Harry stopped, letting go of Draco's feet.  Draco slumped his head down, hitting it with a soft 'thump' against the carpet.  His body was totally limp, but his upper half was heaving with each breath.

          Harry still lightly sat there on Draco's back, smiling at his friends and smirking at the other Slytherins.  Then, he turned his body around so that he was facing Draco's head, and then placed his hands onto Draco's shoulder blades.

          "Am I top, Malfoy?"

          "Hmph?" said Draco from the folds of his arms.

          "I said, Am. I. Top?"

          Draco nodded, too tired to speak at the moment.

          "Really?" Harry said.  He kneaded the palms of his hands across Draco's back.  He heard a slight groan from the crook of Draco's elbow.  "You like that?"

          Harry obviously didn't know how big of an audience he was getting.  Some were now whispering and murmuring to each other.  Harry and Draco were doing another thing that was placed in the Things You'd Never, Ever See Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy Even Do Once In Their Lifetimes.  If they knew what Harry and Draco had done before this, they'd probably not be as surprised.

          Harry bent down to Draco's ear, "Now you know not to stick your cold feet on me."

          He didn't get an answer, so he wrapped his arms around Draco's upper torso, and turned him around so that he lay on his back.  Surprisingly, Malfoy didn't fight it.  He must really be worn out.

          "You going to be ok, Malfoy?" Harry asked, still a bit amused.  He wasn't even sitting on Draco's stomach, just straddling his body.  He placed his hands on either side of Draco's head and leaned down.

          "Yes." Draco panted, "But… if you ever… _ever_ tickle me again, Potter…" he lifted a finger, waggling it, trying to look intimidating.

          "Truce still?" Harry said, tilting his head slightly.

          Draco panted, his hand flopping back down to the floor resignedly.  He lifted his head as if he was to nod, but he left it raised as he stared at Harry.  Harry sized up the situation, and then placed a warm hand over Draco's cheek.  It was still slightly pink, but the color was slowly coming back.

          "Truce." Draco said quietly.

          The crowd was beginning to die down now.  A few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws got up to do other things, or to just get away from the uncomfortable scene folding out before them.  Most of the Gryffindors and Slytherins were too shocked to even move from their seats.

          Harry got closer to Draco's face, and without warning, Draco seized Harry's ears and dragged him down to his lips.

          The crowd around them was one big gasp and there were a few 'Ews' muttered.  Reputation be damned… he'd been missing these warm lips, and the feel of that warm body against his.  Draco groaned and gasped at the way Harry ravaged his mouth.  He ran his hands up Harry's biceps and then down his back, raking the skin lightly.

          Harry was burning up; he wanted to rip off the rest of his clothes, but he knew that he shouldn't.  Harry panted, letting go of Draco's lips, and brought his mouth down to that flushed neck, biting ever so gently.  Draco lifted his legs up and enclosed them around Harry's back.

          Harry let out a quiet hiss as Draco's cold feet touched his lower back.  He gripped Draco's tie and pulled his face up to meet his lips again.  The touch was hot, but Malfoy's demeanor was freezing Harry's spine.  Ice Prince, indeed.

          "Draco Malfoy… I will stick those damn feet of yours into the fire if you don't behave."

          Draco smiled against Harry's lips.  "What are you talking about, Potter?" he breathed, "You _are_ the fire."

          Every Saturday was now truce day for the Slytherins and the Gryffindors.

~… End~


End file.
